Nothing But My Aching Soul
by Elryk Vail
Summary: 'The feeling of being human is a sensation others take for granted. Life's little pitter-patter around the silhouette of their world was a consistent, white-noise. For me, it was a lullaby in the sultry dark of the night.' Riren: Modern AU. A story based off of the song Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey.
1. Chapter 1

Hello, hello Riren fandom. I've been fawning over this pairing for a decent amount of time, and I couldn't resist anymore. After seeing the infamous Young and Beautiful video(s) for the pairing I knew I had to write a Fanfic with the song as my inspiration.

(The original YT video that spurred my inspiration to officially write this fanfic: /watch?v=SvZP4EGEPh8 )

This Fanfic will have several other songs mentioned/sung as well, but they have no or little meaning to the plot. This is not a musical. The two songs mentioned in this chapter are Hopeless Wanderer by Mumfords & Sons ( /watch?v=9ptM0B4tcWM ) and the story's inspiration; Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey ( /watch?v=O4uD6o9XxLs ). Sadly, I could not find a male-cover of the second song. Maybe a sweet would like to make one? You can either keep the songs in another tab and play them as they are mentioned, or play them and get back to the story. The preference is up to you (though, my personal preference is to sing along, because why not). It will be clearly mentioned or stated when the song is in play.

The final thing to note about the story: this is an AU. This means characters have not had the same past experiences as their canon selves, are in a different setting and have attitudes acceptable (ish) into the society that they are placed in. I tried my best to keep them in character but I can only stretch a personality so far. If you honestly feel a specific character is too OOC, please inform me and I will try my best to fix the dilemma.

.

_This chapter is in honor of one of my wives, Shelby, who graciously rescued my phone when I left it in the cafeteria._

* * *

**Miracle**: mir·a·cle [mir-_uh_-k_uh_ l]

_noun_

1. A highly improbable or extraordinary happening, development, or accomplishment that brings very welcoming consequences.

. . . . . Ex.) "It was a miracle I woke up."

* * *

There is no such thing in life as a miracle.

The moment you are at your lowest, the moment you are clinging to the frayed threads of life with an aching grip telling yourself-_ begging_ yourself- to stay for another drop of this sweet, sour, blissful and miserable world is when you realize this point. There are no such things as miracles. This world you were brought into on the accords of another; this world that was thrust from aged hands into the pink, clawing fingers you adorned as you left the womb has never seen a 'miracle'. This world has only seen what life has handed to it.

Life is ruled by a hand that is not proud nor malice. The power that operates this world is one that favors no one, but tends to everyone.

Chance.

A corrupt judge that does not crave money nor power, but simply the ability to choose who, what, where, when, why and how. Chance will give you a coddling home, but only accompanied with the flames that consume the same wood, fabric and seams that were once your own. Chance will give you a cooing and doting father, but a vicious and vile mother. Chance will shower the needless with riches and food, but the needy with pennies and crumbs. It favors no one- but tends to everyone.

Miracles do not exist. They are simply when chance's battered hammer comes down in your favor; and with that favor, you blanket the word 'miracle' over what you were given. It was but a stroke of chance that your 'miracle' happened to be wrapped in a charming little bow and lined with flowers. There was nothing special about what truly happened- there was as much of a risk of the event turning venomous as it was harmonious. To celebrate the fact that it did is the same if you had celebrated the fact as if it did not. Chance does not give miracles, but simply answers. Never have there ever been, nor will there ever be a miracle.

* * *

Footsteps resounded in my ears as my foggy breath spewing past my lips in the morning air. A childish giggle bubbled in my chest. I ran through strangers, their figures nothing more than smeared paint on a blank canvas. I didn't recognize a single face I passed- their presence meant nothing to me. Unimportant. I weaved and darted, too focused to care of their vague complaints. Their words were a murky mix of syllables; not exactly English, but not exactly French. A familiar voice rang behind me. My giggles turned into laughter as I looked over my shoulder, my heart bursting and my eyes stretched wide. The light was unnaturally bright and smudged. It blasted enticing, fluctuating reds- never staying the same hue for very long, though it looped a more crimsonous tint frequently. The shadows of the faceless people casted heavy streaks of black, contrasting violently to the vivid glow.

_"Levi!"_ Mother sang to me, the tsunami of light trembled in her eyes as she wavered through the strangers and shadows. Her voice rang in my ear sweetly, hauntingly. The way her smile twisted skywards, the way her lips quivered, the way her pupils grazed over my body and her eyebrows dipped together as she chased me through the river of people and silhouettes-

… was Mama scared?

I shot my head forward and dug my heels into the cement, my laughter breaking in my throat. The shadows of the people waxed the pavement, their illustrations sultry. They clawed for my sides as Mother's voice reached my ears, their dismal fingers branched for me just like she. Her longer, more defined legs caught up to my fragile, childish ones. My breaths puffed from my mouth and across my cheeks.

_"No!"_ I screamed, my voice pathetic and frayed.

I felt the silhouettes consume my legs and unsettle my footing. My hands bolt forward, eyes and mouth opened wide with a nightmarish shirek passing my lips. The brute force of my body hitting the ground was more heard than felt; my body was consumed into the ravaging darkness. The shadows withered, shielding me from my mother's grasp as she buckled towards me. I was plunged into the void, the scorching liquid and humid air stained my skin. The monstrous waves surged around me, my howls drowned in the abyss. The black before me tore like fabric as my nimble fingers shred into the obscurity- clawing for what, I didn't know. The face of Mother peeked from my mutilation in the black and into my sight; her eyes brimmed with impure tears, stretched beyond their seams as her worn hand strained for mine. My lithe hand raced forward, pushing through the thick murk that encased me. Her hand evaporated as I touched it. I watched in horror as the disintegration flowed up her arm, her body wasting away before my eyes.

The silhouettes oozed into the torn space as it mutated into a more liquidy substance. Soon the black dripped from my body; the color morphing from onyx to crimson, its sweltering heat scorching across my skin. It left my flesh a tainted color- the hideous rotting burned, burned, burned,_ burned._ The screaming slowly registered in my ears until the gruesome image shattered.

…

The jagged end of my scream tore my lips open as I flailed, the tangled sheets of my bed encasing me. I kicked viciously, arms and hands clawing at the sea of fabric. I swung myself into the headboard, my flustered back sticking to the cool wood, tugging my skin awkwardly. My arm jerked from the blankets hazardously and slammed into the wooden board, sending a jolt of painful numbness into the nerves of my elbow.

"Fuck," I hissed through my teeth. My eyes screwed shut as I coddled my now-throbbing arm to my chest, the heat between my trapped skin feverish and sticky. The dream festered in my mind, the haunting nightmare rehashing itself over and over- a broken record that skipped vehemently. The sheets embraced my body fiercely as my struggling waned. My lung dragged in large breaths as I felt myself unwind into a graceless sack of flesh and bones. Tired eyes flickered over to the obnoxiously lit digital clock, the light illuminating the desk and bed that lay ahead in an uncanny blue.

6:38 a.m.

I snorted, attempting to shove the blankets off me with my non-throbbing arm while my other still pressed against my chest. The skin of my back peeled off the wood with a sticky _'sliffp'_ sound.

"Disgusting," Came the sluggish grumble, feet deserting the heated sheets in favor of the frigid floor. I winced at the cold touch, a mute shiver clattered up my spine. My sweat turned to ice-water across my skin; wintry droplets that cascaded down my flesh.

_I'll have to take a shower later…_ was my dull thought, my back hunching over to rest my elbows upon my knees. My breaths came slower, the world slowly registering into my drowsy mind. I flinched as the tender nerves of my injured elbow came in contact with the skin, tingling and sparking. My fingers intertwined together and I hung my head lightly, black tresses sticking to my forehead and cheeks. I took a deep breath, the shivers of the nightmare and cold air dissipating back into the forgotten crevasses of my mind. The blinds let in a dismal amount of light, just enough to encase my room in what seemed to be a prison cell; the light toyed across my body as I shifted slightly to adjust to a small ache that formed along my arched spine.

My eyes stung with the cold morning air that hazed in my room. I watched as the small specks of dust illuminated and disappeared along the prison-like bars in the air with silent fixation. The cold bit my neck and bare chest, the hairs along my skin stood on end as I slowly dragged myself upwards. The sheets finally released me from their grasp as I stood. My fingers unfolded as I reached for the ceiling, pops riveting up my back as I strained my tendons. I stretched, watching the light from the blinds shift across my skin. The unforgiving ice that was my floor froze the pads of my feet as I shuffled for the door. The sweatpants on my hips hung loose, I hadn't even bothered to tie them before throwing them on last night. While passing the heater I saw I had left the thing unplugged, the cord filed out from behind it uselessly.

"Fuck you too, heater. I didn't want your warmth anyways," I mutter spitefully as I push past the bedroom door.

The hallway was splashed in the sun's morning rays, the large windows from the living room letting it flow in with ease. It was snug in the light, the glow warmed the quivering skin of my arms. I sighed quietly into the atmosphere; walking to the windows in search of more of the sun's comforting touch. The windows took up the whole wall, looking down upon the city like an endless theatre. I watched the streets below in meager entertainment. The street closest buzzed with cars alongside the people that lined the sidewalks, bundled in their clothes to escape the morning air's frozen fingers.

I touched the glass, the smooth surface cold to the touch. Condensation from the heat of my fingers enveloped the glass, sliding them across the surface before taking a step back. The sun loomed just above the horizon of the city, the tall buildings pierced the skies above. A hushed pitter patter from behind me stole my attention from the waking city.

"M'rrow," Lieutenant purred, brushing against my baggy sweatpants.

"Hey, devil," I murmurred. His collar's bell jiggled, the silver metal reflected the light harshly into my eyes. Blinking, I bent down, running my hand along the cat's back. His black fur fluffed as he arched into my hand, his pale gold eyes staring out the window.

"You need food, stupid cat?" His ear flickered in response, head tilting to headbutt my hand and let out a guttural purr. A sigh slipped from my lips as I stood up, casting one last glance out the window before turning inward towards the sun-lit room. My shadow was long and defined, a harsh black against the bashful yellow. Memories of my dream crept back into the realms of thought, and I subdued to the never ending torture that was my mind.

* * *

The mirror fogged over with the steam that emanated from what was left of my shower; the droplets trailed down the reflective surface in gentle ripples. I wiped the mirror with a plush towel before wrapping a different one snug around my waist. The white towel clung to my hips as I pushed out of the bathroom, trotting down the hall. I passively noted the honking of strangers' cars from the street along the apartment building, accented by the swift cursing of an irate pedestrian. The noises of the city increased with every passing moment, leaking into the walls of the apartment. Slowly, the vigor and vivacity of the city awoke to greet the rapidly-warming July sunrise.

I jerked the dresser drawer open, shuffling through the clothes as neatly as humanly possible. Lieutenant jumped onto the dresser, peering down as I searched for a decent garb for work. The cat bat at the hair falling in my face mercilessly, with the paw continuously landing astray and on my face instead of his intended target. I growled at the cat's antics, swatting back in retaliation.

"Let me get dressed, stupid. Bills don't pay themselves," I hissed at the puny cat, shoving him off the dresser for good measure.

"Muuhrrr!"

The feline was the embodiment of stubbornness as it returned to the top of the dresser, tail swishing and eyes trained on me. I continued to rustle through my clothes, ignoring him pointedly. When I leaned forward to snatch a black button-up, he took his chance for revenge. The cat's paw landed on the center of my forehead, pushing me backwards with a very intentional shove. I stumbled, squawking as I landed square on my ass in nothing but a towel. Surprisingly, it clung to my hips snuggly throughout the dilemma.  
"Lieutenant Captain Cadet Corporal Commander Esquire the Second, get your furry ass off my dresser_ this instant_." The cat blinked at its full name, a purr resounding from its throat. I glared daggers at him.

_Is it considered animal abuse if you throw your cat out a five story window,_ I mused illy as I picked myself off the ground, advisedly staying out of the cat's reach. Hell, I didn't even own the cat from my own free will; the devil was a gift from Hanji.

A _drunken_ Hanji, mind you.

She had given me the cat after fretting (read: sobbing hysterically) in an intoxicated spurr that I was a 'sad, lonely man' and that I need a 'nice, happy pussy cat to keep me company in that haunted apartment'. Why my apartment complex was haunted and how I appeared to be sad and lonely was beyond me. She then proceeded to drag me to the nearest animal shelter, picked out the runt of the litter, then gave the petite kitten the longest name she could possibly think of in her impaired frame of mind. To this day, I remember the severely traumatized face of the girl who had the unpleasant chance of having the shift Hanji invaded. Never had I seen such a terrified expression.

I had protested the whole trip- but, when that woman's mind was set, she would go to great lengths to accomplish her goal; inebriated or not.

… and the fact that Lieutenant had been cute as a kitten might've played a role in the whole scenario, but that's besides the point.

I watched as the cat snatched the shirt I had picked; he dragged it further out of the drawer, managing to dump the surrounding shirts onto the floor in the process. Tugging the black shirt out of Lieutenant's teeth ("Goddammit cat, I swear I'll move your kitty litter to the street!"), I shrugged it on. I fiddled with the buttons, slowly slipping them into place as I looked out the window. The traffic in the distant streets had increased heavily since my peek out the window this morning; the sounds of the city were seemingly at full blast. I turned towards the dresser to face the mirror that sat on the wall above it, flattening out the creases in the fabric of the shirt. Lieutenant eyed me through slit pupils.

"What do you want, judgmental prick?" I huffed, pushing the drawer shut as I stared back. I opened a higher drawer to pull out a pair of boxers and slipped them on. The cat continued to stare as I got dressed; black pants, a belt, and finally a white tie.

I stood adjusting the white tie, hands hovering over the fabric until I was satisfied. The feline's gaze never once left me, and I felt briefly unnerved. What the hell was this cat's problem, anyways? Nevertheless, the shirts on the floor were soon refolded and placed into their original setting. I shuffled over to my bed with the cat hot on my tail.

_Not this again…_ I began to fit my shoes; trying to tie the strings in a heated battle with Lieutenant's teeth and claws. I won- only after receiving a new scratch across the back of my hand, however. The mark was a vibrant red across my pale skin; a new battle scar my coworkers would surely comment on. I could practically see their smug faces as they asked what'd happened this time.

I snatched the keys from the nightstand, and set for the door. My shoulder bag laid on the kitchen's bar-table; the brown cloth faded and worn from the years of using it as a school bag turned luggage bag. I plucked the strap up and slung it across me, the bag falling a bit heavy as it clung to the shoulder on the opposite side. It bulged slightly from my laptop and all the books; most of which are in need of returning.

"Don't tear my house apart, devil, we need a place to sleep," I said as I trotted towards the door, twirling the house key in my hand. It was a habit- talking to the cat. The act of speaking to someone, anyone, made me feel more… human. I seized my key from its spinning, pausing at the door as I thought this. The cat sat on the counter in the space where my bag originally occupied. His eyes watched me with an expectant, trusting gaze. He knew I would come home like always; feed him, talk to him, maybe even play with him, once I had returned from the quiet hell that was labeled work. It was our routine, one that I followed religiously albeit subconsciously. Before I had gotten Lieutenant, I hadn't had anyone to talk to. The first week I had brought the devil home was the most I had spoken to anyone in months.

I realized that maybe- just maybe- Hanji hadn't been so wrong about me being as lonely as I had previously thought.

* * *

The morning air had warmed considerably as the July heat settled over the now-bustling city. I walked with the flow of the crowd, my destination in mind not far. An English muffin was clutched in my hand- one from Trout's Bakery. It was two-thirds gone by this point as I nibbled at the bread with the crumbs sticking to my lips and surrounding cheek. The noises of the city blared around me: the rumble of cars' incessant honking, the clicking of heels on cement, the stranger chatting on their phone, the mother scolding her spoiled brat, the barking of a man out his car window at traffic with a few colorful choice of words. Of course, this led to the said mother snapping at the man about public decency, and in turn was given a snide comment. I let a puff of air sprout from my mouth as I shifted through the buoyant crowd. The sun clambered higher into the sky, peering down at the pedestrians that filled sidewalks and traffic-cluttered streets.

I stalled at a corner to adjust the eternally-bulky shoulder bag, the crowd flowing past me in a sea of colored clothes and ethnicities. The buzzing English was accented by the syllables of other diverse, eccentric languages. A street-shop's speaker bellowed an optimistic song; the chorus rang above the heads of the flocking people and composed into the air. It added spice to the already-upbeat scene- bright and ecstatic.

Lively.

A flinch riveted up my spine as the deafening cry of a newborn's pierced the air, but in a way, it complimented the atmosphere. I brought one of the many napkins that were wrapped around my muffin to my face idly, once again walking with the mass of bodies that surrounded me. The minutes melted away as I walked; my eyes straying from the faces of the people to the sidewalk, then to the store windows. The last of the muffin's remains were being tossed into my mouth when I saw my intended destination. A wooden sign jutted from the side of the building and hung from a wrought iron holder, the metal bent and bowed elegantly.

The Bodt Café was petite in size, but the business was showered in loving, devoted customers. I was (begrudgingly) one of them. The outside seating on the business's porch were tall chairs and tables; only a few were occupied by the morning-spirited people. I stepped onto the porch after cutting through a larger group of strangers and tossed the unused napkins into a nearby trash-bin. The tables were far too tall in my opinion, especially for 'vertically challenged' people such as myself. Seriously- I don't enjoy having to hop up in order to sit in the chairs, or to dangle my feet like a child. It's been more than once I'd find an unfamiliar pair of eyes staring at me in amusement as I sat in the too-tall chairs and table. Good thing the coffee here was_ the shit_, or else my pride would've won the battle of never coming in contact with the chairs-from-hell ever again.

"Hey, Levi!" A familiar honeycomb voice called. I looked over to a man suited in a typical black and white waiter's outfit, his short cut dark hair bobbing as the freckle faced boy waved. His smile pulled high on his lips, cheeks perked and eyes alight.

"Hello Marco," I nodded to him as he lead me to one of the cruel tables.

"The usual?" Marco said as he snatched up the pen that was hooked to his shirt pocket, note pad already in hand. The current used paper was flaked with an idle twitch of his thumb to reveal a clear, fresh sheet underneath. His pen was inking the page before I even parted my lips in order to form a response.

"Yes, please." I said as I shrugged off my bag and began hoisting myself upwards.

"Alright. I'll go fetch it for you," Marco said through a grin, his eyes abundant with laughter as his gaze took a fearless peek down at my dangling feet. I glared holes into his back as he pivoted and walked into the café, speculating if it was possible to light something on fire with a glance.

_I wonder how many people would be dead if that were true,_ I thought duly, fingers trailing over the cool surface of the table. My head found its way into the palm of my other hand, dispassionately watching as the siege of people walked by. My hand roaming the table paused. I glanced down at my bag, noticing one of the books jutting out of the unbuckled flap. It was the most recent one I had begun, and so far the plot-line had been promising. I looked to where Marco dissapeared, no sign of the freckled man eminent. My eyes scanned the people with the proximity with caution before leaning over to snatch the book up. I flipped to the dog eared page- eyes lavished with the phrases and sentences that marred the paper. Immediately, my mind was engrossed in the novel's world.

It wasn't long until Marco came back.

_I swear I'm going to wipe the smug expression off of his speckled face if he looks down again,_ My eyes narrowed at him. He set down a scalding cup of coffee next to where I cradled the book; black, rich liquid sloshing lightly, with the steam billowing out of the cup's lip. One hand left the book in favor of the coffee. I curled my fingers around the rim, my strange habit, with a content sigh. The steam danced around my cheeks as I lifted it to my lips and took a sip. The liquid simmered across my tongue and cascaded down my throat.

* * *

**Accident**: ac·ci·dent [ak-si-d_uh_ nt]

_noun_

1. An event that happens by chance or that is without apparent or deliberate cause.

. . . . . Ex.) "I noticed his existence by accident."

* * *

I didn't notice it at first.

It was muted by the stereotypical sounds of the city; a budding blossom masked by the possessive leaves of the forest. The hushed notes and breathed tones were encased deep in the city's crevasses- hiding from my ears bashfully. It was a voice that lulled even the heartiest of beasts to sleep. I continued to nurse my coffee, dipping into the rich liquid with eyes skimming over the starch black words of the book I had pulled out. The sentences held my attention captive to the pages, idly flipping the paper with a small flick of my wrist. The notes were not abrupt in my ears, but eased in like molasses on a June morning. The lyrics slowly smuggled their way into my mind, nestling timidly inside my thoughts. It accompanied the words on the pages; bringing more zest to them than simply my imagination. Only until I began to hum along quietly did I realize what had slipped into my mind.

Someone was singing.

The realization was slow, if not drowsy. The distanced notes carried in the air gracefully; it pierced the atmosphere with a tenor call that resounded rebelliously against the typical city. I vaguely wondered where the noises resonated from. There were many penniless people that would sit on a bustling corner and sing into the crowd, but this was different. The voice wasn't someone singing as if they were pleading or begging for money- it wasn't needy or desperate. My grip on my book loosened as I felt my mind dragged from the story's reality, eyes casted upwards, increasing with the volume when the melody drew closer.

People stood from their chairs, gazes flailing between each other in search for that voice.

I felt the book's spine rest on the table, forgotten as I joined their search. I slid down to the floor and gradually made my way to the edge of the porch, leaning over the railing to get a better view. The tenor notes that filled the air were nearing- I witnessed as strangers began to point, children giggling as they tugged their parent's sleeves to _"Look, look!"_. My eyebrows rose as I saw the crowd part, smiles adorned their faces as their eyes shimmered in merriment;

_"… But hold me fast, Hold me fast,_

_'Cause I'm a hopeless wanderer!"_

The man's face was young; the rounded cheeks and blistering smile brimmed with a youthful glint despite appearing to be in his twenties. A young girl sat on his shoulders- singing along in a less graceful tone, but her enthusiasm matched his in every way as they walked;

_"And hold me fast, Hold me fast,_

_'Cause I'm a hopeless wanderer! …"_

"Faster, Uncle Eren, faster!" The girl wailed into the air, arms spread as he broke into a jog through the swiftly parting crowd; his quiet chuckle bounced off the buildings between verses. The man's eyes shone with a gentle blaze; his proud smile directed to the child he held on his shoulders. He rocked back and forth as he ran, voice melting into the next section of the song;

_" … I wrestled long with my youth,_

_We tried so hard to live in the truth,_

_But do not tell me all is fine,_

_When I lose my head, I lose my spine!"_

I gaped with wide eyes. Plowing turquoise eyes slammed into mine, the man's gaze lingering on my skin and body, my mind not comprehending the power that was hid behind them. For someone so young they seemed aged, ancient beyond his years;

_"So leave that click in my head,_

_And I won't remember the words that you said,_

_You brought me out from the cold,_

_Now, how I long, how I long to grow old,"_

The eyes left as soon as they passed, my mind reeling as I leaned farther on the railing along with strangers. The two voices trilled together, the little girl's long black hair rippling behind her fiercely;

_"So when your hope's on fire,_

_But you know your desire,_

_Don't hold a glass over the flame,_

_Don't let your heart grow cold,_

_I will call you by name,_

_I will share your road,"_

Soon the parted crowd was slowly sewn back together, their eyes still trailed backwards as the voices continued to bellow into the city's ears. The strangers around me leaned back, excited whispers thrown between them as they returned to their seats. Slowly, I lifted myself off the railing, but I couldn't bring myself to move. Only once had I heard anyone match such lively pitches, such air that could freeze the movements of the city with a single note;

_"But hold me fast, hold me fast,_

_'Cause I'm a hopeless wanderer,_

_And hold me fast, hold me fast,_

_'Cause I'm a hopeless wanderer,"_

Illustrations of my mother came to mind, my grip on the railing tightened as wisping memories stabbed my vision, along with a rush of a calming emotion- one that forged existence through my veins;

_"I will learn, I will learn to love the skies I'm under,_

_I will learn, I will learn to love the skies I'm under,_

_The skies I'm under …"_

* * *

Working at the library has its perks. It's relatively quiet, what with the space filled with hushed whispers and the scrape of pages being turned and all. It was orderly and relatively clean. My access to books wasn't limited; a plethora of novels were at my fingertips and within my grasp. The stress was manageable, with vacation time and work schedules only a loose grip on my free-hours. I enjoyed being able to get away with reading on the job at times, or even to go as far as to claim it was for work itself. It was pleasurable, leisure, and had a little touch of my borderline-obsessive habits. Everything good, however, has a touch of bad.

"What's better: cookies, rubbing faces with someone, or orgasms?"

My eyebrow twitched.

Coworkers.

"Rubbing faces?" Perta questioned as she flicked through one of the library's files, her voice piped to a higher octave.

"Yeah! Like this," Hanji replied, snatching a particularly large packet out of the file as Petra continued to skim through it, undisturbed by the interruption. I heard the scrape of a chair across the wooden floorboards. I leaned towards my laptop into a more defensive position, back arching gently. My fingers strummed over the keyboard in rapid succession. Today was one of those days I just wanted to crawl back into the hole I came from so I could rot away and forget my worries; one of those days I wished I could have a vacation from life.

Permanently.

Footsteps creeped in my general direction, and I braced myself for the inevitable force that was Hanji.

"Leviii!"

Nimble hands slammed onto one side of my face, the other side smashed against Hanji's cheek. The packet gracelessly slapped me across the face and crumbled under her grip.

"What do you want," The words weren't interrogative, but they were accusing as they left my mouth. It was slurred as my lips were puckered from the pressure of her face on mine, and muffled from the stabled-together pages she held. I forced myself to keep the passive expression I held; I wouldn't reward her antics with a reaction. My eyes never left the screen, nor did my fingers pause from drumming into the keys.

"Levi, do you love me?" She cooed, rubbing her cheek against mine. The touch caused a heated friction that irritated my skin, her long brown hair caught awkwardly between. A choked giggle burst from behind, Petra unable to contain herself at the ridiculous display. I sighed through my nose and glanced at Hanji from the corner of my eye. I lifted a hand to peel the packet off my face, tentatively removing it from her fingers and tossing it on my desk.

"Like an annoying little sister that should get out of my room and leave me alone."

My attention folded back to my laptop's screen, the words picked up where they'd left off and continued to spill onto the document I currently had up. Hanji's face stayed crushed against mine, rubbing in circles.

"Here's the list of titan mythology books we have, Hanji," Petra chirped, raising a paper from the file's depths, "And, rubbing faces. Definitely," Hanji's grip left my face, releasing me from her embarrassing death hold. I could still feel the throbbing of my skin from the tremendous amount of pressure she'd used. I lifted a hand to run it across my aching flesh, the other still typing. She turned back to Petra, her eyes alight with laughter.

"Wanna try?" I saw Hanji gesture towards me from the corner of my eye. Tension filled my shoulders as my gaze drove daggers into the woman standing next to me; eyebrow twitching once again. A small groan rumbled my throat as I pressed my hand onto my face again, pinching the bridge of my nose. Why I considered her my friend, I would never know.

"No thank you," Was the nervously chuckled response from the other woman.

Moments like these in life were special, despite my dislike for them when they occurred. They reminded me that I was human; in a similar way talking to my cat did, or the sensation of the sight I'd saw earlier with those turquoise eyes. These moments clung to me, and in return I clung to them. The feeling of being human is a sensation others take for granted. Life's little pitter-patter around the silhouette of their world was a consistent, white-noise. For me, it was a lullaby in the sultry dark of the night.

* * *

"Levi?" A small voice murmured. My gaze tore from the shelves to look at the boy. Armin stood with eyes cast down and his head seldomly bowed; his hair effectively hiding his eyes from sight. His ears were alight with a rosy tint as he spoke.

"Yes?" I cock my eyebrow at him. We've worked together for over a year now, and while the poor boy still seemed introverted he had come to relax greatly. It was surprising to see him last this long- with coworkers such as Hanji and the antics of the rest of the crew could get very… mentally scarring. They seemed to spare him of the worst, however, since he would try his best to go along with them.

"I know it's not my place to ask this, but…" He head tilted to the side, a peeping eye looked around the long tresses shyly, "Could you work my shift until after lunch? I know-"

I raised my hand to cut him off, tossing it carelessly.

"Sure. Go do whatever," I hummed, attention back to the rack of books I was returning to the shelf. A majority of the books were older; their spines tussled and worn from the wearing, tearing life they'd been through. I picked up a particularly frayed one and gently nuzzled it back into its place on the shelf delicately. I slid my fingers down the old spine once it was snug between the other books.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, it's fine. I don't have any plans for the day." For such a intellectual boy, he needed to be heavily educated on self-confidence. It was very annoying to have to reassure him every biting moment he wavered. On that note, he flashed me a modest smile and pivoted, tossing a small 'thank you' over his shoulder before he set off. I watched him leave in slight interest.

_Where is that little brat off to,_ I thought idly. The boy hadn't missed a single day of work since he had been hired at the quaint library. He was very diligent, and an excellent worker- he was best when working with the kids and had the patience to perform with the less-than-pleasant people that would waste space in the library.

_Maybe he got a social life,_ Was the sarcastic reply. Another book fell into their place as I trudged along the shelf, pushing the cart filled with books. It was quieter than usual at this specific time; many people were at work and the teenagers were yet to invade to steal the wifi. A strange woman was hunched over in one of the seating areas, her eyes trained on a book. There was someone else as well, tucked into the corner of the library. I stared at the figure deliberately. Something was … familiar about the silhouette. A shrug pulled on my shoulders and I turned my attention back to the books; I needed to get to the front desk to take over for Armin. I set a faster pace as I returned the books, subconsciously noting that the silhouette moved from its spot from the corner in favor of the aisles teemed with books.

The cart wheels squeaked faintly as I walked back to the front desk. I left it next to the drop-off box, a small noise emanating as I let it roll into the wooden crate gently. I ran a hand through my hair, my shirt pulling a little awkwardly as I pushed the knee-high swinging door that lead behind the desk. My shoulder bag laid on the table next to the Library's work computer, and I felt myself smirking. Armin knew me better than I thought. Gathering a few scattered leaflets on the desk to arrange them as I walked past, I felt my consciousness slip. The commotion from this morning replayed in my mind- the way that voice had sung rippled through my mentality. The pile of collected papers were set down next to my bag. The computer's login screen was prompted to life as I moved the mouse, the monitor returning from its sleeping state. The username and password slipped onto the screen rapidly; the words second nature to me by this point in time.

_He had a nice set of vocal cords on him,_ I thought casually.

I tossed my bag's flap open and filed through the components that were stuffed together to the seam. I found what I was looking for (surprisingly at the very bottom of the stupid thing); the novel from this morning. The rolling chair twisted around as I grabbed its handle, gently easing myself into it. I peeled the book open at random, then flipped to the page I'd left off. My mind silently reminisced about the man I had seen at the café; the one that could sing exactly like mother.

_I wonder where he's at now,_ Was the final thought I held before I surrendered my imagination into the story's reality, aquamarine eyes toying at the back of my mind.

* * *

Life loves to fuck with me.

A lot.

I stared at the person before me, paralyzed. It was_ the man_. More so a boy, if I thought of it. His softer curved cheeks accompanied with his wide eyes didn't help in the masculinity department. He appeared youthful- yet his eyes bore a distinctly different testimony. I cleared my throat, my passive expression recovered and once again put on display for the world to witness.

"May I help you?" I spoke curtly, the syllables a little sharp despite the quiet hush that contained them. The turquoise-eyed man- Eren, was it?- nodded, a timid smile across his face. He placed a single book onto the desk in front of me, a library card resting on top. I felt the routine movements come into play. I had checking books out down to muscle memory; it didn't require even a fleeting thought on my end. I used it, however, to cover my racing mind.

_Of all the fucking places, he ends up here,_ I hissed to my thoughts. I duly noted that the book was actually a children's book. My eyebrow rose slightly, and to my surprise he noticed.

"It's for my niece. The one you saw me with earlier," He murmured under his breath. My gaze returned to him, once again I found myself speechless. My face didn't shift from its current display aside from the fall of my eyebrow, though I felt he knew more than he let me believe.

"I'm surprised you remember me," I mumbled.

_Dammit that was supposed to be a thought- fuck you mouth, fuck you._ My mind bounced wildly, thoughts a little scattered. Why was I so scrambled? To hell if I started acting like a teenage girl fawning over her crush while on her period. He acted oblivious to my inner turmoil, but a small tic in my mind told me otherwise. His grin drew upwards on his face, stretching the seams of his lips. I pushed the book across the desk's surface back to him, wrist arched and fingers stretched along the hardback cover.

"Of course I remember. It's hard to forget, actually. You looked like you were in your own little world, watching a sad black and white memory," He said; his voice so young, yet his words so old. He knew the feeling I had felt in those spare seconds; he had known my mind had been elsewhere. I felt my jaw tense. He slid his fingers around the book and pulled it to his chest.

"Thank you," He whispered, his relic eyes blazing with a newly kindled flame.

It took me exactly 2 minutes and 14 seconds to realize I still had his card.

* * *

**Devastation**: dev·as·ta·tion [dev-_uh-_stey-sh_uh_ n]

_noun_

1. A happening or occurrence that is reduced to chaos, disorder, or helplessness.

2. Severe and overwhelming shock or grief.

. . . . . Ex.) "It was a devastation to realize he had no roof over his head, nor a place to call home."

* * *

Some say cities never sleep; that the dark hours bring out a second face that hides behind the mask of day. Those people have never been to Maria. At night the city sleeps soundly- a newborn that is occasionally woken from its slumber to cry. Its cries were the sirens of a distant copcar, or the infrequent giggling laughter of a drunk who found their own muttered joke hilarious, stumbling along the streets in a meager attempt to get home. Maria sleeps sound in the wake of the night. The hushed breezes of the mid-July air and the fluttering of the sparse trees that were planted along the sidewalk were all that accompanied me.

My eyes slipped close as I took a deep breath, the humid air curling in my lungs. I had stayed late at the library, if only to keep my mind off of that strange man. It was unnerving how he had known to such detail what my face had entrailed. The way he had pinpointed the expression he saw in a passing glance- the way it was spot on- rattled my spine. Even the way he worded his little side comment riveted me. Never had anyone crawled so deeply under my skin, nor could there ever be another to do so. That man knew more of the fabrics of life than what he lead everyone to believe.

My shoes clicked on the sidewalk's cement surface, echoing into the night air unabashedly. I had left many of the books I had borrowed at the library- my bag no longer dug into my shoulder under their weight, but hugged me snuggling in its grasp. I played with one of the buckles on the strap idly as my mind wandered quietly into the night's darkness. The black sky arched overhead like a large dome, the stars holes in its surface where the light slithered past. I kept my eyes trained on the night sky. The moon was playing hide and seek with me; for a fleeting moment it made itself apparent from behind a tall building, only to slip along the back of another.

I kept my mind from straying in the man's direction as best as I could. Alas, one can't restrict their thoughts forever. When you are confronted with what you are trying to forget it is very, very hard to ignore. I slithered down the city's streets and I knew I was in trouble. It had to play out this way, didn't it? The familiar tones trickled through my ears and into my attention as I walked past a deserted-looking park. I tried to ignore it- I really did.

I must be Life's favorite play-toy today.

_Nothing likes to go my way. Life is rigged to make me suffer,_ I thought ily. The sound of that tenor voice broke through the trees and fence that outlined the park. As I approached the entrance, I knew there was no hope in walking past it. The words were muffled, but I wasn't a fool. I knew a sorrowful song when I heard it.

The big ass trees loomed over me, their shadows a harsher black than the sky. The park was surprisingly gigantic for being located in a city. It encased a moonlit lake, the reflections swelled and tore apart fluently- the moon looks akin to a white flame in the water. The entrance led to a spacious opening, the grass looked unattended to as it was grown longer than it should've been. It wasn't knee-high length, but from the looks of it the possibility of reaching such a length was within reason. The opening itself was accented by an overly-expensive looking fountain in the middle; it was the only structure in the entire park aside from trees, it seemed. The moon illuminated the crystal waters that blossomed from the fountain's peak and sloshed down its sides.

I walked one of the many paths towards the center of the park, my eyes straining to make out the scene. With the fountain as the dominant figure of the clearing, the walkway encircled it along with many other paths that emerged from the outlining trees- each one the same distance from the other when they connected at the fountain. Benches were distributed evenly between the sidewalks, all of them empty except one.

_There you are._

Up until that moment I couldn't make out the words that brushed past his tongue, but as I neared the articulation of the words increased; the emotion behind them in tow. My body was consumed by the fountain's shadow. I paused- remaining hidden in the darkness like a thief at night.

_"… I've seen the world, lit it up,_

_As my stage now,_

_Channeling angels in the new age now,"_

I gasped softly as the words left his lips. The excruciating lyrics, the gradual tempo, the honey-sweet notes… I remembered this song. I felt my body flinch at the recognition. How many times could she haunt me in one day? To hell with these memories, to hell with my mind…

_"Hot summer days, rock 'n' roll,_

_The way you play for me at your show,_

_And all the ways I got to know,_

_Your pretty face and electric soul,"_

The melody was strained with his voice- tight with an emotion I couldn't understand. I was fighting my own internal war alongside him, too caught up in my own thoughts to spare time to appreciate the alluring sounds that he made. Quietly the chorus pasted the man's lips and I felt myself straining to hear. I slowly stepped from the shadow of the fountain into the moonlight and watched as he stared at the lake. His elbow rested along the top of the bench, his cheek in his hand as he leaned into it.

_"Will you still love me,_

_When I'm no longer young and beautiful?_

_Will you still love me,_

_When I got nothing but my aching soul?"_

A small smile fought his agonized expression, the way it burned into every crevasse and shadow across his face drew a spark of pity from me for the strange man. Damn I was getting sappy, but I couldn't bring myself to look away- he reminded too much of _her._

_"I know you will, I know you will_

_I know that you will_

_Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?"_

I felt my face break its façade at the lyrics. My eyebrows came together and I felt my skin crease. My lips pulled tight against the teeth below; he even looked like her. A young face with old eyes, a modest smile on display, and brown, slightly tousled hair. My canine pierced my cheek to keep the memories at bay.

_"Will you still love me,_

_When I'm no longer young and beautiful?_

_Will you still love me,_

_When I got nothing but my aching soul?_

_I know you will, I know you will,_

_I know that you will."_

He noticed me, his eyes casting to the side to peek at my figure. I stood there like a fool and crossed my arms defensively. I jerked my head upwards a little- the only way I would ask him to finish the song. He hesitated, but after a few soft moments of silence he let the last of it drip from his lips and into the night's air.

_"Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?_

_Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?_

_Will you still love me when I'm not young and beautiful?"_

The last note lingered before he finally let it die. I felt myself freeze. What the fuck was I doing? My fists clenched into my black shirt, the fabric scrunched under my grip. He broke the silence after a handful of seconds past.

"So we meet again," He chortled in a mocking tone, a pretending look of surprise across his face. I snorted, playing along with him despite myself.

"So we have."

* * *

14 pages. _14 pages._ I've never written something so long IN MY LIFE. For the icing on the cake- I'm trying to challenge myself to keep it around that length for every chapter. Augh. Sorry if our friends seem OOC; I tried my very best to keep in character, but that doesn't always work. Warn me if it gets off track.

Anywho. The first chapter is up; I'm so excited. I know my writing style and habits are either strange or bad, but please don't murder me over them? I'm always one for polite criticism or suggestions- it's much more pleasurable than arguments. (On my end at least.)

**Footnotes/Other information:**

- The intro/beginning segment was actually from Levi's POV, so please do not argue nonsense with me? It's all in the character, bby.

- The three words given in the story have more meaning than you think; please refrain from forgetting them completely. They will play a vital role much later on in the story.

- In this fic, Eren is 23 and Levi is 27. If anyone is curious about the ages of the others, simply ask and I'll tell you.

- As your Author, I have one little … snippet I must inform you of. I get uncomfortable under the topic of religion. This is actually why one of the verses was cut out; it's heavy religious content wasn't to my taste (very sorry for that). I tried my best to keep it from showing- I even gave Levi a little phrase/tic that he's to repeat throughout the story. If you notice this and it bugs you to any degree, I am truthfully sorry.

- THIS FANFIC IS IN NEED OF AN OFFICIAL PICTURE TO USE AS AN ICON. If anyone is willing to offer an already (and fitting to the story) image, please say so in a PM, review, or any other way. If anyone wants to draw a picture for the fic specifically, that's even better!

I might be forgetting something. Your author is very sorry for any inconvenience. (_ _;;)


	2. Chapter 2

Hello, hello! I'm back with another chapter. This chapter is told from Eren's P.O.V. There are also a few time-skips, and they will be hinted at within the chapter (I find it 'unprofessional' to deliberately point them out, so I won't directly write it but will make it clear when they occur. I'm sorry if this bugs anyone). You also get to meet Eren's niece, yayyay!

Songs mentioned in this chapter:

Into The Ocean by Blue October ( /watch?v=InYcfpv0_8w )

(This is briefly mentioned) Little Town from the movie Beauty and The Beast ( /watch?v=Mx1MmY1Bb50 )

WARNING: THE LAST HALF OF THIS CHAPTER IS UNBETA'D. It will be replaced with a beta'd version sometime tomorrow or the day after, but until then, I'm very sorry for any mistakes!

Without further ado, here's the next chapter of _'Nothing But My Aching Soul'._

* * *

_"So we meet again," I cackle at the strange man, his apathetic face twisted in slight amusement at my words as he gave a quiet snort._

_"So we have," He agreed, those scrutinizing eyes locked on mine._

* * *

"You're the depressing librarian," My voice shook as I babbled to the man before me- I never was one to think before I spoke. It was a childish tendency that clinged to me, I guess. My eyes were fixed on him while the all-familiar heat blushed across the planes of my face. It burned up my cheeks and over my ears; a molten heat that crawled over my flesh.

_Smooth. Really smooth…_ I groan mentally. Silently, I hoped the shadows casted from the moonlight hid the discoloration. The man's arms were crossed, his chin held high. Despite his vertically challenged stature the man held a very commanding air. I took note at the tension wrapped into his shoulders- he looked like a spring only a shudder away from its unravelling. Narrow eyes fell on mine and I felt a small shiver twitch across my skin. Those eyes reminded me of a cat; a Chesire cat that bore a frown instead of a grin; an oxymoron in the flesh.

"Depressing?" He questioned as a thin eyebrow arched upwards at my outburst. I shrugged, and my elbow fell clumsily from resting on the bench to my side. My gaze fell to the long silhouette I made; silverlight billowing around the shadow, ignorant to the imperfection it made. In the corner of my vision I saw the man's shoes shift. Trailing up his body I watched as the tension developed deeper into his stance. He seemed conflicted. It didn't match his persona, I decided in the depths of my mind- shying away from me like that. The other times I had been caught in his presence the man had held a confident, if not defiant, air towards society and the dictating quota that came with it. But, the way he responded to my voice was different than others, the way he'd falter was offbeat from his usual rhythm. I'd seen him plenty of times before today; before this morning or afternoon. He worked at the library I frequented, and I had watched him from afar in a way that was borderline obsessive. It isn't my fault curiosity tended to get the best of me…

And my curiosity for this stranger was certainly something bizarre.

He was a mystery; a sealed book none managed to open. The book was graced with a very beautiful and fascinating cover, one that attracted the attention and thought of many. However, those very pages that ensnared and teased their mentality were locked away. A steel chain with a lock of diamond as its crown and a key nowhere in sight or mind, all of which hid the words that adorned and told his story. It wasn't that others didn't want to read the inked words beneath- he simply did not let them. I'd witnessed the man shoot down conversations consistently, and never once had I seen a smile even twitch at his lips at their pursuing words. I've witnessed person after person give up on their quest to unbolt him; each one either too frustrated or disheartened to continue further. The most outlandish fact of it all was the man always appeared to be relieved once they abandoned their attempts. The way he constantly tossed a weary gaze over his shoulder, the way he stayed a hair out of other's reach, the way he never let anyone too close was all very peculiar.

This man was a unknown silhouette among the many that walked this very earth- how could I not become a little obsessed with curiosity?

"I don't have a name to call you, and until then I'll just call you 'Mister Librarian'," I stated. Any traditional human being would have proceeded to give their name, but 'Mr. Librarian' just gave an (amused?) huff and glanced over his shoulder.

_He's doing it again,_ I tilted my head slightly. The action only fed to the eternal curiosity-lit fire I had instilled in my body.

_Who are you?_

"Do you like my singing?" I blurted. I really needed to start thinking about the things I say before blabbering off; it was going to get me in trouble one day. The shorter man's shoulders rose as he took a sharp breath. Unease bubbled in my stomach. I felt my hands grip the edges of the bench when I tasted the words on my tounge, once again flowing without a filter or dam to stop them.

"You always seem distant when I'm singing. Your face a little while ago looked a lot like the one you made this morning," Oh, for the love of all that is good stop talking, "Does it bug you? And, ehh, where's the closest place to get something to eat? I'm starving," My grip on the bench tightened as to prevent punching myself in the face. I sounded like a dumbass. My eyes bored into the man's face while my nerves buzzed like ants under my skin. He seemed a bit thrown at my aimless words- I could see the inquiring look that kindled in him. Every moment he stayed quiet while tending to his thoughts I suffered a boundless onslaught of questions.

_What are you thinking of?_

"It doesn't bug me, no," He said deliberately, as if he were talking to a child and not the twenty-four year old in front of him. I watched as the tension that had built under his skin unwind and loosen, the once rigid body uncoiling. I sat patiently like a dog, waiting for an answer I was unsure that would come. Slowly, the raven-haired man eyes strayed from me.

"There's a gas station that probably sells something, though it'll be junk. It's down that street," He unravelled his crossed arms to toss his hand carelessly to the right, pointing in the general direction of the store, "it's down Marilyn Boulevard."

_He's avoiding my first question._

"Could you tell me your name?" The man's gaze locked back on mine. I felt myself shrink in my seat; those eyes looked so cold, but even the heartiest of ice could melt if put under intensive heat, right?

Right…?

_What makes you tick?_ The thought vaguely crossed my mind.

"You ask a lot of questions, damn it." The man muttered and shook his head, turning away from me. Disappointment wormed into my stomach and I felt my smile falter- damn this man for being so difficult. How hard was it to get someone to tell them your name? The sound of the fountain's water bubbling echoed the clearing, filling in for the lack of speech on our part. Why did it matter anyways? I had other things to worry about; where was I going to sleep and what I was going to eat were more important than some antisocial librarian. Even with those thoughts, I pushed harder. I unclenched my death grip from the bench and rose to my feet, taking a step towards the man. He cocked his head slightly, inquisitive eyes following me in a predatorial gaze as I approached him. A stubborn tsunami seized my body as I stood next to him, eyes clashing in a heated stare. I shoved my hands in my pockets and, once _again_, seemed to have no control over the words that dripped from my tongue.

"Can you walk to the gas station with me, Mr. Librarian?" I asked quietly. Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing. This man was a stranger- an unknown, a wanderer. Who knew what he held under his beautiful cover? What was under those cold steel chains, under that unforgiving diamond lock? What words drifted in his story; words that made him become the man he was today? I blinked at the onslaught of questions. This curiosity was more of an obsession. The mid-July air seemed to turn to ice despite the sultry humidity, my nerves a little grated. I wanted answers, and I wanted to know this man. It's not like I had a job to consume my time, nor a house to tend to. The man snorted at the use of his nickname before a devilish glint chipped into his eyes.

"I don't know, _can_ I?" He shot at me, and- _holy shit was he actually teasing me?_ I gaped at the man. What? One moment he refuses to even tell me his name, the next he gets playful? I couldn't even feel a brush of anger at the smart-ass comment, only a sense of pure, zealous happiness. The man held his stoic outlook, but a thin veil of mirth rimmed his eyes. I felt I had won the lottery.

"Would you go the the gas station with me?" I tried again. After a moments hesitation, I tacked on a quiet 'please' to my second attempt. A plastic, overly faked look of contemplation worked onto his face. A deft finger was brought to his face, tapping his chin as his lips pursed slightly. He glanced to the side in a way I would dare describe as playfully before returning it to me.

"I guess," He hummed.

"Okay, I'm starving, let's go!" I gave a small snort of laughter before trotting down one of the long cement paths in the park's clearing.

"You're such an oddball," I heard the man stated absently, as if his mind was elsewhere- somewhere deep in the crevasses of his mind or a memory, and not reality. I paused, pivoting on my heels to face him.

"You won't tell me your name, yet you'll walk to the gas station with me. I don't consider that normal either," My rebuttal was quick like a whip.

"You just asked a stranger to walk with you in the first place," He countered, though I sensed the joking nature still clung to his monotonous words. I couldn't stop the grin from pulling the strings of my face.

My curiosity for this man was certainly something bizarre.

"Hey, brat," The shorter man called as I turned to continue walking, "that's the wrong way."

* * *

"Shesh, what's the rush?" 'Mr. Librarian' muttered under his breath. My rapid step-falls pulled me ahead of him, leaving me to look over my shoulder at the shorter man.

"Because _food_," I deadpanned. It was amusing to watch his shorter legs skitter at my near-jog pace. The way the man's thin eyebrows twitched in irritation only highlighted the illustration.

"Whatever," The strange man mumbled. I twisted my neck to face forward once again, eyes hungrily grazing over the buildings in search of the gas station. My stomach groaned at the near mention of food at this point. When had I last eaten? Breakfast didn't happen because of Elli, however, he didn't blame the little girl. It wasn't her fault her mother was constantly at work, or that her father was an absolute useless waste of space that had the word bastard written in every fiber of his being. What Mikasa saw in that man, I would never know.

_Asshole probably runs a mafia,_ I thought offhandedly. My annoyance distracted me from the person I walked beside; one that had caught up to my slowing strides as I glared uselessly into windows. The vacant buildings reflected black outlines of the man and I's shadows as we walked past, the moon's light embroidering them onto the glass show-case panes of the businesses. The stores were somber in the faint light, contrasting with the warm and inviting colours of the trinkets that lined the shelves. They seemed lifeless without the artificial light gleaming on them. I stared into the empty stores as we passed them, folding my hands behind my back and leaning forward whenever an precious item caught my eye.

_I could never afford this,_ Were the gloomy words that rained on my mental parade. The man next to me stayed quiet, but his presence was useless to avoid. I tossed my gaze over to the man whose shadow accompanied mine. His grey eyes were on me- and they widen slightly at being caught. He snapped his head forward and tugged at his bag's strap idly. I chuckled, the laughter not quite enough to break open my lips, but enough to resound in my chest and rattle my ribs. With the bound of laughter came an idea; a small inspiration that tickled and teased my ever-restless curiosity. I began to hum. The man's attention turned to me again as I stared ahead, pretending not to notice the stranger's stare.

_Should I still consider him a complete stranger?_ The thought picked at my mind. From the corner of my vision the man visibly relaxed as I hummed the quiet tune; the melody was nothing special, just the first one that had arose to mind. The man let out a sigh- out of contentment or stress I couldn't decide. The man's face was surely going to freeze with an eternal frown afterall.

We walked in a comforting silence, aside from our footfalls and my humming. The city stayed its usual quiet. Only once or twice had I seen the flicker of a stray cat or loose trash that kept the street company. It didn't last long, however.

"What're you humming?" 'Mr. Librarian' asked softly. Honestly, I needed to come up with a better name for him. It was getting hard to take him serious with such a stupid nickname.

_I was the one that gave him it,_ I recalled lamely_, so I guess that's my fault._

"I, uhh- I don't..," I spit the jumbled words out in no rhetorical order. A thin finger uncurled from my the hands twisted behind me to scratch the back of my neck. The lyrics of the song tickled my throat as I sang the lines I could recognize in hope of recalling. My eyebrows knit together as the lyrics slowly came together; forming a beat, a sentence, and soon a verse.

_"I'm just a normal boy,_

_That sank when I fell overboard,_

_My ship would leave the country,_

_But I'd rather swim ashore…"_

Each word held a piece of the puzzle, and I felt myself slowly weaving the scattered parts of the song into one larger picture. My words and voice were quiet as it echoed down the deserted streets, excluding the man I walked beside and myself.

_"Without a life vest I'd be stuck again,_

_Wish I was much more masculine,_

_Maybe then I could learn to swim,_

_Like fourteen miles away…"_

The librarian's eyes stayed trained on my face, the grey orbs pierced my skin and into my mind in a way that was borderline terrifying. No one should have such prying eyes.

_"Now floating up and down,_

_I spin, colliding into sound,_

_Like whales beneath me diving down,_

_I'm sinking to the bottom of my…"_

The song's name was on the tip of my tongue as the lyrics slipped past- it was a dam ready to break and dammit I hated it when I couldn't remember a song's name. It was one of the worst feelings in life to ever occur, next to tangled headphones and dropped icecream.

_"Everything that freaks me out,_

_The lighthouse beam has just run out,_

_I'm cold as cold as cold can be,_

_be…"_

I let out a wail of recollection, snapping my fingers as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. I swayed with the beat as I continued, now bouncing with the steps I took. I didn't care if I looked stupid or foolish; victory made each word sweeter than the next as I remembered, and that was enough for me.

_"I want to swim away but don't know how,_

_Sometimes it feels just like I'm falling in the ocean,_

_Let the waves up take me down,_

_Let the hurricane set in motion,_

_Yeah,_

_Let the rain of what I feel right now come down,_

_Let the rain come down,"_ I sang, throwing my hands up to the black, empty sky before threading them through my disheveled hair and locking them behind my head. I looked over to the man next me with a small grin.  
"'Into The Ocean' by Blue October. That's what it's called!" I declared, a thin sheen of pride showing in my words. The man stared at me wordlessly, his expression twisted into a tug of war between bewilderment and astoundment. A self-conscious heat filtered onto my face and down my neck as I scrunched my fingers together tighter behind me.

"What?" I asked, tilting my head away from him, throwing my gaze at anything but the man next to me. A muffled but amused voice piped from his lips.

"And you call me the oddball? You brat," The man pointed at the shadows that layed on the glass of the windows, "look in the mirror."

His words stained my thoughts, my eyes glued to our shadows.

* * *

Heaven to the broke and homeless man was a cheap meal. What provided cheap meals? A 24/7 open gas stations did, that's what. I stared at the florescent lighting of the cheap, supposed-to-be-clever name of the building. The light blocked the stars in the sky, but I couldn't find myself to mind as I ran across the oil and tire-trek stained parking lot. Why? Because _food_, that's why. The galaxy could be blowing all to hell from an alien invasion, but if I was hungry goddammit my attention would be focused on a twinkie and not some strange ray-gun pointed at my head by some green, funky looking lifeform screaming at me to 'surrender' in a foreign tongue. Now, if that alien was asking me to surrender my precious, spongy dessert, that would be a different story altogether. No one gets between a man and his twinkies.

No one.

A blast of frigid, convenient store air hit my face as I pushed open one of the glass doors. A electronic chime rang in the air and alerted the half-asleep clerk behind the counter. The man shot up, knocking over some of the arrangements lining the checkout counter as he stood. I made a B-line for the foods and snacks section, passing the clerk in his drowsy attempt to pick up the mess he made. I ran my hands over the price tags that jutted from the shelves. They were lined mostly with sweets or small snacks, bright packages nearly burning my eyes with overly enthusiastic neon colors.

_I think I still have a five dollar bill,_ I thought dimly as I reached into my back pocket. I fished out the crumpled bill and stared it.

_This is the last of the money. Dammit,_ My eyebrows pulled together, annoyance mingling with the fear I held. Who knew when I'd get more money.

"Are you going to glare at money all day, or are you going to buy something?"

I gave a small squawk when I jumped at the sudden presence of the librarian. My fingers fumbled with the dollar bill until it slipped, fluttering to the ground. I looked over my shoulder at him sheepishly, "S-sorry. I have to spend it wisely, since I don't have a job."

A small spark of interest kindled in his prying eyes.

"Oh? How do you pay your bills?" He spoke with indifference, but his eyes said otherwise. I bent down to scavenge for the five dollar bill, refusing to meet that gaze. I toyed with the edge of the dollar in an attempt to stall- an attempt to buy time. This was always the hard part about meeting someone new.

"What bills?" I asked.

"House bills- electric bill, water bill, mortgage or rent…" The distinct pause in his listing caused my fingers to curl around the dollar in a tight clench.

"Unless…" The man was hesitant. How sweet of him.

"Unless you don't pay any?" He continued, gradually leaning into the topic. I sighed and decided to save us both the greif. I stood and turned towards him, an inkling of defeat wormed its way into my voice.

"You don't have to pay any bills when you don't have a home in the first place." Surprisingly, his face remained impassive. Or should I say unsurprisingly? His face was constantly in a frown; it made me wonder what a real smile would look like on those lips.

_Probably some scary shit,_ I thought idly.

"Your face is gonna be stuck like that forever," I really needed to stop thinking outloud. Mr. Librarian's eyebrow twitched at my little side comment, but his mouth stayed sealed. I pushed past him, scanning the shelves for something to fill my moaning stomach. There were only cheap, less-than-satisfactory food. Chips, candy bars, other sweets; while they all looked deviously tempting I held my ground. I needed something to hold me over, not give me a horrendous toothache.

_Who knows when I'll be able to eat again,_ anyways, The somber thought stung. A shiver rattled up my spine as the cool air began to seep into my clothes. The man behind me remained mute after our little conversation, and instead chose to weave into the other aisles and disappear. My chest felt bruised and burned at the sudden abandonment- to leave without so much as a word? Was I not even worth the breath? Such a cruel, demented story he must hold under that chained and locked cover of his. I blinked. Why wasn't I mad at him? If it had been another person; a different face, different body and personality I would've felt the bitter taste of being offended to my very core, but with this man I couldn't feel the harsh emotion. It didn't even simmer in the edges of my mind.

I walked dazedly through the gas station, muttering a passive 'Hello' to the blundering clerk. I decided on the gas station's pizza; heat radiated from the lazily turning racks of the display it sat in, the slice slid onto the thin cardboard plate messily. I could see the grease and burnt edges, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Food was food, and it would be ungrateful if I developed criticizing tastebuds when food was so sparse.

My feet dragged slightly across the ground, the soft scraping sound of the soles of my shoes on the smooth floor filled the store along with the freezer and heater's electrical hum. I looked out the window and while the fluorescent lights glared off the glass sharply, the sight past was still alluring. I could make the outlines of the gas pumps out front; of the buildings beyond. They were accented with dismal lights sprinkled in, a last thought that an artist decided to add before finishing the product. The whole canvas faded with a blue and black tint- buildings bruised onto the sky's horizon, petals made of light sprinkled carelessly. A timid smile twitched at my face. The thoughts were cliché, but they brought a bubbling elation to my chest.

_I'm worth more than my clothes or what I own,_ I thought defiantly to the world- well, my mind, but I felt as if I had spoke to the world; it might've all been a figment of my imagination. The pizza slice slid onto the counter. The dull clerk asked the same, overused question with monotone words.

"Is that all for you, sir?"

"Yes, it-"

"No." Came the authoritative objection; the tone akin to a lawyer in court, one that held a solid argument and could prove beyond a reasonable doubt their case. A tone that was unarguable- the closest to the truth a lie could possibly become. I lurched forward in an attempt to get out of the way of that tone, because _damn it was terrifying._ My heart burst adrenaline through my veins, and it spread like wildfire under my skin. My hand shot to cover my screaming heart, fingers tangling in the fabric of my t-shirt as I clutched it a death grip.

"For fuck's sake," I wheezed, looking towards the smaller man, "You scared me."

His face remained impassive. Mr. Librarian's eyes didn't meet mine for the first time that evening, this time focused heatedly at the clerk. His jaw was tense, lips curling ever so slightly at the tightly pulled muscles. I blinked at him, fingers relaxing their grip. The shorter man nudged me to the side with his arm, and as he did so I saw the items he cradled to his chest.

An array of small snacks and bags bloomed from his arms hazardously. He shifted them awkwardly in his hold as he worked the ridiculous amount of food onto the counter without making a mess. The packages crumbled under the nimble-fingers as he pushed them towards the spiritless clerk behind the counter along with my pizza, eyes still refusing to glance my direction.  
"This, too," He stated with his finalizing tone.

"I-i can't afford-" I tried, but the librarian's prying eyes ripped into mine and I felt myself shrink. This man should be a corporal in the army- one that would put his troops in their place, and then proceed to rip their dignity in shreds only to rebuild them into soldiers. He didn't look accustomed to the label 'librarian'.

This man had the eyes and voice of a soldier.

A small voice flittered to the edge of my mind and corrected me. _No_, this man did not have the eyes and voice of a soldier.

_This man has the eyes and voice of someone who has nothing to lose._

I watched as his hand fiddled with his shoulder bag's strap, nuzzling into the bag beneath.  
"W-wait," My eyes grew and my cheeks felt stained with heat, "you don't have-"

"I don't have to do anything, brat. I'm choosing to do this, and no amount of modesty on your part is going to stop me." Screw a lawyer's voice, this man could be president.

"…" I watched as he tussled with the insides of his bag, timidly contemplating to speak up again. The shorter man tugged a leather wallet from underneath the shoulder bag's flap. The edges were worn and tattered, but the wallet's stitching still held tight despite the rough years it appeared to have witnessed. Nimble fingers flicked themselves into the fold of the wallet and dug for a way of payment, all the while the wallet unfolding more and more until it stretched, fully exposed. I looked at the array of cards that reflected the fluorescent lights from the ceiling; one card in particular caught my eye.

"You're 5' 3"?" I witnessed one of his eyebrows twitch from the corner of my vision.

"Keep your eyes to yourself, little brat." He snapped but made no move to cover his driver's license.  
"Okay, _Levi_," The grin was biting at my lips before I could contain myself. The man- _Levi_- glared at me before he jerked a few bills out of his wallet.

"Keep it quiet," He grumbled, hand moving to cover his driver's license to preserve what little privacy he had left.

_I finally know his name,_ The thought brought a sense of pure, zealous victory into my swelling chest. I knew his name. Not voluntarily, but details, details; it wasn't important. It was still an accomplishment. But damn, only 5'3"? He looked short, but knowing his actual height made him seem even smaller. My eyes continued to stare at the plump wallet, curiosity now burned into my veins to replace the fading adrenaline. Why had Levi tried so desperately to hide his name? He didn't seem to be the type of person to make such a blunder, especially after being prompted so many times personally with no avail. The perfectionist atmosphere he held close to him made me doubt that he would slip up so casually; that he would forget such a meticulous detail.

_Did he do it on purpose? Did he actually want me to know his name…? What if-_ My mind paused as I caught a glimpse of a particular item nuzzled in the folds of the wallet. A very, very familiar item I had lost track of. Again, words fell from my mouth without consent or thought.

"Is that my library card?"

* * *

Libraries are amazing. They're filled with books for entertainment, are quiet when you need to think, provide free wifi to use, provide computers to use, and are the best places to reenact disney scenes with your adopted sister's daughter.

"Bonjour! Bonjour!" Little Elli whispered, pulling the hem of my shirt as she attempted to haul me down the rows of books. Her voice took to different octaves to imitate the men and women from the movie; Beauty and The Beast. It was eerie, because she could do it very, _very_ well.  
"Bonjour," I whispered to her.

"Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!" She tittered back. She finally slowed down once she found our favorite little spot, one hidden deep in the library's top floor. It rested next to large windows that stood proud above the city of Maria, its buildings masked in dense fog today. It blanketed the tall structures in a misty cloud with only their roofs visible. Her wide honey eyes were glued to the glass panes, bouncing on the tips of her toes to see out them. I gently slid my hands around her waist and hoist her onto the rather large ledge in front of the windows. She reached with petit fingers for the clear glass.

_"There goes the baker with his tray like always,_

_The same old bread and rolls to sell,"_ Her voice whispered into the quiet air; it didn't shatter the silence, but gave it a veil and song to sway to. Elli's voice wasn't the best, but in moments like these it was precious.

_"Every morning just the same,_

_since the morning that we came,_

_to this poor potential town-"_

"Good morning, Belle," I interjected, throwing gasoline into the fires of her imagination. It was exhilarating to know she sang because of me; that she saw my dreams of singing, and projected them with her own. I was the richest man in the world when I listened to her sing. Her little fingers dragged across the glass, leaving oil marks down the surface. She looked back at me and smiled a toothy grin. I kneeled down next to her and turned my gaze to the window.

_"Look there she goes that girl is strange,_

_No question,_

_Dazed and distracted, can't you tell?"_ I murmured faintly. The little girl next to me tucked a long raven tress behind her ear while honey-comb eyes never left my face.

"Why did the townspeople think Belle was strange, uncle Eren?" She asked me softly. Beauty and The Beast was very realistic and cruel, but how do you explain such a thing to a seven year old? My eyebrows knit together as I thought, sewing together a response her ever-consuming mind would be satisfied with.

"They thought she was different and strange," I replied lamely.

"Why?" Dammit.

"She let her imagination run free and she read books upon books to sate her mind. Belle thought for herself, wanted more for herself. She wanted a life of adventure and excitement like the books she read. Everyone thought she was strange, odd, peculiar. It was a time when things were different," I rambled aimlessly to Elli. It was really hard to explain this without ruining the movie for her; Beauty and The Beast was her favorite, afterall. My gaze trailed over to the little girl who returned my stare owlishly, her rounded face twisted in confusion. I reached over and tousled her hair.

"Don't worry about it. You're a lot like Belle, you know," I stood up and stretched as I redirected the topic, evading the onslaught of questions I could practically see willing to burst from her lips and into the quiet library's air of page scrapes and soft mouse clicks.

"Really?" Her eyes blossomed at the thought as she wriggled her way off the window sill. Little feet connected to the floor in a small thump, her eyes still on me. She snatched my hand and pressed herself against my side, looking straight into my eyes with innocence so thick a knife of the sharpest blade could not dream to cut it; a hammer of the greatest brutality could not hope to smash it. She was my little, innocent Elli. I leaned down and brushed away the black tresses that spilled across her forehead and pressed my chapped lips to the exposed skin.  
"Of course, Elli. You're my little Belle," I whispered to her. If possible, I witnessed her eyes stretch wider.

* * *

I scanned the crowded mall like a vulture- my eyes tore into every figure, ever face, every body that passed like they were rotting meat at my dispense. None of them were familiar, and I felt myself pacing. She was late; Mikasa was late.

Mikasa was never late.

The clock that hung from a large pillar ticked over and over; the sound was permanently engraved into my mind. It was approximately 12:23, and she had asked to meet in our usual spot at 12. Anxiety vined in my body as I shifted my weight to the other foot- I waited patiently, worriedly. Where was she? It wasn't like her to let such a thing slip from her mind, especially when it came to me. She was overbearing and motherly. Mikasa damn near treated me the same way she treated little Elli.

_Did that bastard she calls a husband stop her from going out?_ It was likely; he and I never saw eye to eye. Our personalities mixed as gracefully as oil and water; and attracted each other as much as same polar magnets. There had been many heated words and spewed hatred directed from both of us towards each other. It was a vicious war, and in the end, neither of us won. Elli would cry, and Mikasa would sit, torn between her brother and her husband as we threw venomous words at one another. In the end, it was never worth the price. It wouldn't be surprising that he refused to let her leave once he knew she was coming to me; the very thought made me livid. The anger-scorched thoughts were torn from my mind at the tap on my shoulder. My neck craned to the side to see who dared interrupt my pathetic internal ranting, which might or might not've brought a look akin to a pout on my face. I would never admit to pouting.

Mikasa stood behind me, once vivid and lustrous eyes only a dim grey. The scarf I had given to her long ago was wrapped meticulously around her neck, the red hue still clung to the yarn with all its might. Her skin was pale and seemed to lack blood; the life had been sucked from her limbs and she was left with a still heart. Rage boiled in the pit of my stomach- this was the shell that bastard left behind of my beautiful, doting sister.

"You're late," My words were sharp and curt.

"I know, I got distracted," She replied nonchalantly; her eyes fell away from mine.

"Distracted?" We walked with the flow of the people. Heads bobbed and weaved all around us in colorful masses and waves, faces all but blurs in my mind. In the corner of my eye I saw her fingers claw at the edge of her scarf and tug at the yarn. I couldn't throw the hunch that words were being unspoken, but I left the idea to hang on a noose of trust. It choked and withered the more I reminisced on the topic, but I couldn't smother the sudden panic.

_She would tell me, wouldn't she?_

"It's nothing to worry about, Eren," Her voice was clipped, "I didn't asked you to come here and interrogate me. I need you to do something for me."

I nodded dazedly, eyes unfocused as I overlooked the chattering crowd that surged around, an untame sea of people who shouted and shrieked in joy and anger at one another. A mantra of my last thought clung to my mind; the repetition turning the words to mush.

_She would tell me, she would tell me, she would tell me._ What was bugging me, then?  
"Why, then?"

"Could you watch Elli for the evening?" My gaze turned to her owlishly.

"Mikasa, I don't even know where I'll be sleeping tonight," I deadpanned, "I'm homeless, remember?"

She winced at my words and glared vehemently at me, her words spat like wildfire.

"I told you to come live with us!"

"I will not take your charity. I can hold my own," I growled, the sound coming from the back of my throat, "Besides, all I would do is fight with that bastard. It's not worth the emotional and financial strain on your part. Leave it be."

"No, It wouldn't," She tried with pleading eyes. It was moments like these I swore I could see a glittering tear well up, but the moment I blinked the sparkling drop would disappear from sight and mind. I alway wondered if it was my simmering and unrequited guilt fueling my imagination to play such devilish tricks on me. It was cruel, really. She reached for my t-shirt, but I stepped out of grasp. Her hand froze in the air; still reaching for me, but not close enough to touch. The arm refused to stop, her fingers still clawing for me. My feet shuffled once more to avoid that smothering grasp. The scowl on my face provoked an interesting reaction- she began to tremble.

"Eren, you're worth it. You're worth the money, and maybe you two could learn to get along," Mikasa's tone shifted to the sickly, honey sweet tone she used. It was what Elli enjoyed calling her 'Mommy voice'. Annoyance bubbled under my skin and into my veins, and I felt my temper recoil.

"Shut up. I don't care- No means no, and that is my final decision. I refuse your charity, so stop asking." My voice strained and shook to keep from yelling; to keep from boiling over and burning everyone in its path like hot water. The notion of admitting I needed help was excessively hard, and every time I tried to ask the pleas were restricted in my throat and barred off by my tongue. It was an interesting concept- for someone who spoke so much without thought, I never came clean with the thoughts and situations I reflected on the most.

_Damn my pride_, I seethed to myself. Slowly, Mikasa's arm fell to her side, limp. Days like these- the ones that drained the life from me, and then proceeded to remind me that I was too stubborn- were the ones which made me wish for help the most. Nothing charred my heart more than the look of devastation and defeat in her eyes; nothing left a deeper, hideous scar of a memory in the realms of mentality. She nuzzled her way behind the red stitching of her scarf, her nose barely peeked out as she left the topic to hang.

"It won't be for long, I promise. Maybe you could show her that park you're so fond of at night? Please, Eren," She pleaded. It had been a silent agreement between the two of us, a pact or a truce. Elli didn't know of my situation, and she was never to know. If she'd found out- if little Elli found out… An iron talon thrust into my heart.

_If my little girl found out, it would be the last of me._ Disgrace washed over me. I looked to the high arching glass ceiling of the mall, consciousness of my surroundings melted and meshed into vague colors and sounds. Did it make me less of a man to not accept defeat in a situation like this?

"Fine. I'll watch little Elli," I sighed, running a hand across my neck. My fingers got tangled in my hair, and I found myself pulling at the knots to keep myself distracted. In my distraction I felt a cold hand wrap around my arm, the fingers gingerly slid over my skin. It was a crisp distinction from the sweltering heat of my own. I swept my sights back to Mikasa, who tugged my arm towards her chest and away from my hair.

"You make me worry," The words broke her lips open, but she only breathed them into the air. The guilt chained my body and turned my flesh to lead; my arms coiled around my beloved sister. She didn't deserve this, she didn't deserve such a deadbeat brother. I felt her fingers claw into the back of my t-shirt and pull me close, almost desperately. The words dripped from my lips and into her ear, ones with no trace of thought but brimmed with emotion. The emotions weren't sad; they were teemed with determination, and a voice of such conviction and confidence even I believed the mindless syllables. It was a tone I had been on the receiving end of before; one I experienced and absorbed from a very certain librarian in a gas station only a few weeks ago.

"I'll be okay. Don't be worried- I'll make you very proud one day," I whispered hoarsely, "Just you wait. I'll get to take you and Elli out to fancy restaurants, the latest movies, and spoil you both rotten. I'll make you proud before I grow old."

It was only when Mikasa shifted in my arms did her scarf come loose, sloppily slipping from the carefully wrapped state she had dressed it in.

It was only then when I saw the black, yellow and blue bruises that painted her neck; bruises that would fit profoundly well to the shape and size of a man's hand.

* * *

A light drizzle of rain drifted from the sky as I stood beneath one of the enormous trees towards the edge of the park. For a park located in the city, they were rather large and twisted with age. The park itself was ancient, but recently renovated to encourage citizens of Maria to visit the old trees and winding paths. The trails were a labyrinth shrouded by a forest and assortments of overgrown flowers, and no matter how many times I'd frequented the dirt paths I always discovered something new. They were perfect for entertaining the eternal curiosity and imagination of a seven year old. The bark was rough against my back when I leaned further into the tree, avoiding the rain's cooling touch as much as possible. Being sick was definitely not on my agenda this week.

The clouds hid the sun; instead the drenched streets were wet and stained a darker hue, the feeling of night premature for being around 5 P.M. I was grateful the clouds decided not to grace the sky with lightning, or else watching Elli would be a much more difficult task. The petite girl was terrified of it, poor girl. A semi roared past on the main road and gracelessly threw a spray of water my direction. A small yelp piped from my throat as I jumped up to escape the claws of the dirty street water.

_Fucking semi drivers think they own the road,_ I thought feverishly as I my now-soaked feet. My glower trailed the reflection the tail lights gave off of the semi, silently wishing the driver would fall off the large step at his next truckstop. A sigh filtered out my nose; my back returning to the uncomfortable bark of the old oak I pressed against. My body slid lethargically down to presume my set under, the bark dragged unevenly and tugged the ends of my t-shirt up to expose miniscule amounts of skin. Only now did it occur to my sluggish mind-

_Why did I have to watch Elli? Couldn't her dad get off his ass and do it?_ I pondered of the thought, tossing it back and forth in my head. In the end, it didn't matter. I didn't mind spending time with little Elli, and Mikasa said she'd only be about an hour. It must've been a sudden arrangement, because she normally informed me much sooner. Mikasa was a strict and fussy planner. So, I pressed against the old oak and felt my eyelids become heavier than 20 pound weights. Waiting was very boring…

Surprisingly, I didn't have to wait for Elli to arrive.

"Uncle Eren!" A familiar, high pitched voice shrilled. My eyes shot open and my neck snapped in attention, with the back of my head colliding with the tree.

"Shiiii-oot" I drawled off awkwardly. My hand rubbed the back of my head to sooth the blistering pain that was bound to become a splitting headache later on today.

_I am not looking forward to that,_ I thought sluggishly. My hand shifted its way from my neck to my face to drag across my eyes, warding off the nap I had almost taken. I looked up to see Mikasa standing on the sidewalk with her hip and eyebrow cocked, and I felt a sheepish grin grow on my face. An umbrella was clutched in her hand so tightly I could see the white knuckles of her hand; the other was intertwined with a smaller version of her's. She hated it when others cursed around her daughter, and while I was her beloved brother, I was no exception. In order to avoid a bitter tongue lashing I drew myself upwards sluggishly with support from the tree, only to drop to my knees and opened my arms.

"Elli! How are you, baby?" I cooed. The little girl tore from her mother's grip and dove for my arms- she nearly took me down at the sheer momentum.  
"I'll be back in an hour, just like I said," My ears heard Mikasa call to us, though my attention was turned to the child crawling up my lap.  
"Okay. We'll stay in the park."

"Uncle Eren, What're we going to do?" Elli squirmed in my grasp in an attempt to reach my shoulders, her feet pushing her high on me and her hands pulling themselves up by my neck.

"You're getting me all muddy, Elli, get down for a moment. I'll give you a piggyback ride," I reassured her. She complied and unraveled her hands from me, standing on the ground patiently as I stood and stretched out the aching muscles of my back. My head still throbbed from the delightful meeting it had with the tree, but I set the discomforts aside. I've endured much worse, after all.

"Here, Elli," Mikasa called, "Take your umbrella. Try not to get too wet, please."

"Yes, mama," The little raven haired girl chirped, running back towards her mother in the light rain. Puddles splashed around her feet and dispersed the collecting water. The little girl threw herself at her mother's leg, arms wrapped around her thigh, her chin finally resting on her mother's side. Elli watched intently as Mikasa pulled the little blue umbrella into view; honeycomb eyes widened and a smile drew wide on her face. Mikasa gently nudged the arms that ensnared her with the little blue umbrella, a ghost of a smile scarcely visible. Her pale fingers buried themselves into the child's hair, threading through the ink tresses as she spoke.

"Be good for Uncle Eren," She murmured quietly. The hand drew the child closer for a timid embrace, the natural worry of a mother baring through. She held the girl onto her body for a heartbeat before she let her arm fall limp to her side once more. Her dull eyes turned back towards me and narrowed; I could tell what words she was about to say, and rolled my eyes before she even had the chance to utter them.

"Stay out of trouble."

"We will," Elli and I chirped in unison; lower tenor and childish soprano in a small duet. Elli's arms dropped from their grip. She turned to me with a wide grin; her rain boots made a squishing noise as she ran for the cover of the trees. Once she stood by my side we witnessed Mikasa pivot, but not before throwing a small wave over her shoulder. The click of her heels on the wet pavement rang clear in the dark, moist air as she left Elli and I to our own devices. After the outline of her body disappeared into the drenched city lights and streets I felt nimble fingers thread with mine. They tugged, and were accompanied with an acute whine.

"I want my piggyback ride," Elli bubbled through a pout on her pink lips. A trifling laugh racketed my chest as I bent down for the child; resistance of a piggyback was useless with this girl. Those honeycomb eyes and rounded face, accented with plump cheeks of baby fat could get anyone to comply to her whims. I vaguely reminisced if it'd work with a very specific librarian that occupied the back of my mind. Lithe arms laced over my shoulders and around my neck, a giggle in tow as she leaned onto me. I hoisted her thin legs into my arms and stood, her fingers threading into my t-shirt and her head nestled into the side of my neck. I could feel Elli's heart beat on my back, her small puffs of breath on my shoulder, and her small, whispered words into the fabric of my shirt.  
_"Love you, Uncle Eren."_

In that moment I couldn't have felt richer.

* * *

Ahh, yes. Eren is our homeless little duckling. Poor sweet.

Before you flame me for the semi scene- I have many truckers in my family, and believe me when I say they really do feel like they own the road. The singing was actually unplanned in this chapter, but it was amusing to write and I didn't have the heart to take it out. It's a good, but random, bonding moments. Random bonding is the best bonding. Eheh.

Anywho! I felt as if I had stalled enough when writing this chapter. I'm terribly sorry! I'm a slow writer, and very picky.

A little fact: the husband in the fic will not be defined, for specific reasons. It's not Jean, either. Eren's hatred for the man comes from something else- you'll just have to keep reading to find out.

On a different note, the updates for this story will be one per month, with the updates towards the end of the month. I will try my hardest to stick with this schedule.

If any of you are on tumblr, find me! I'm Elryk Vail on there too, and I'll be handing out sneak peeks and other news/announcements. (just add .com)

If I may say … I always love having other's opinions while writing, and if I could have someone willing to give honest feedback is superb. Seriously, I feel like my writing isn't the best- but my opinion doesn't have as much say in the matter. Its the reader's opinion that comes first, and I was asking if I could have anyone of you voice it? Was it good? Bad? Anything that irks your attention- even a little bit?

_Next chapter: _As the story begins to unfold, more of Levi's life become eminent- AND EREN, I SWEAR TO GOD YOU'RE GOING TO BREAK YOUR BACK SLEEPING LIKE THAT.


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